Like a Rose
by Baleful Eyes
Summary: Many died at the Conclave, and only one survived. Cassandra knows that he had been there, and although she didn't see it, she knows he's gone. She hasn't thought about it, though; someone of her rank has no time to mourn. However, when a young girl arrives in Haven looking for Cassandra, the Seeker may be forced to deal with it regardless.


Bash the pommel of the sword into his face to blind him, and then one, two, three strikes. Dead. Well, if it wasn't a practice dummy. Cassandra wiped the sweat from her brow, and let out a deep breath she didn't even know she had been holding.

"Seeker," came the Mother's voice.

"Mother Giselle," Cassandra said, turning to see the Mother standing in front of her. It was odd to see her outside. She always sent people on errands to do things she needed, and if she ever wanted to speak with someone she would have a person fetch them to talk to her inside. "What can I do for you?"

"Not for me," said Mother Giselle, "but for her."

Cassandra followed the Mother's gaze, and only then noticed the small child standing next to her. The child appeared to be rather young, reaching only slightly above the Mother's waist; she was no older than six, if Cassandra had to guess.

"And what would that be?" said Cassandra.

"This child has come a long way," the Mother explained. "She has traveled all the way from Denerim to find Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast."

Cassandra's eyes widened, surprised to hear this. "Is that so?" she said, hiding her shock behind that blunt tone of voice she always used.

"Indeed," Mother Giselle confirmed.

Cassandra looked the child over. Dark brown hair worn in a messy bun, and blue-green eyes; her raggedy peasant dress was smudged with dirt, and she wore a pair of mud-stained boots that were too big for her, needing to be tied tightly in order to fit.

"Mother Giselle, would you mind leaving the two of us?" Cassandra asked.

"Not at all," she replied. She looked at the child and gave her a reassuring look, and the small girl smiled in kind.

"What is your name, child?" Cassandra inquired once Mother Giselle had left.

"My name is Élise," the girl answered with a curtsy.

Cassandra was surprised when she heard the young girl's voice. Despite the ratty Ferelden garb, she had an Orlesian name and a thick Orlesian accent that was polished with the minute flourishes and purrs which indicated nobility. Perhaps an Orlesian servant? A companion and servant for a child around her own age who was left behind by her masters? It was doubtful. Servants generally had a dialect of their own, and it was unusual to have human servants. Objectifying elves by making them servants was practically a sign of wealth and power in Orlais.

"And you came all the way from Denerim?" Cassandra said.

"Yes, Lady Seeker," the girl said politely. "Dominic brought me."

"Dominic?" the Seeker echoed in confusion.

"Dominic is the man I met in Denerim," Élise explained. "I saw his wagon, and I asked him if he could take me to Haven. He said that he was going to the Frostback Mountains for trade—he's a merchant, you see—and he said that Haven was on his way there, so he said he would take me with him, and he did."

Élise's speech was as fluid and elegant as any Orlesian noble Cassandra had met, but she spoke quickly and with the excitement and energy that any young child would possess. The way the words poured out almost made it seem like she had rehearsed her explanation.

The clothing had thrown her off, but it was now obvious to Cassandra that the girl was of noble blood. The way she spoke, the fact that she didn't let her posture give away any indications of how she was feeling, and that look she had on her face. Cassandra could tell that Élise felt naked without a mask; the Game was taught at an early age, and hiding indications of emotion was one of the first things taught.

Cassandra thought carefully about how she would phrase her next question, not wanting to potentially upset the young girl.

"And it was just you and Dominic?" Cassandra asked. "You aren't with your parents?"

Élise shook her head. "No, Lady Seeker.  
"A few years ago Mother took me to the market with a servant and told me to wait at one of the stands, but they didn't come back. No one will tell me why, though."

Cassandra felt uncomfortable, unsure of what to say in response. "And your father?" Cassandra asked, hoping for a less grim answer.

"Father died when I was younger," Élise said.

"Do you have anyone to take care of you?" Cassandra asked, trying not to sigh.

"Uncle takes care of me," Élise explained, "but Uncle isn't here. He told me to come here if time ran out."

Now Cassandra was interested, raising an eyebrow when she heard this. "What do you mean?"

"He took me to Denerim," the child explained, "and he had me stay with Miriam. He gave her some gold for taking care of me, and he paid her. Then the money ran out. Miriam said we could sell my clothes, so we did, and she bought me this dress. Then that money ran out, so Miriam said I had to go. She was really sorry, though. So time ran out, you see?"

"And that is why you came here," Cassandra realized. "But why? Why here?"

"_Because_, Lady Seeker, Uncle told me I would get help if I came here," Élise explained, becoming impatient with the Seeker's apparent inability to grasp the situation. Typical spoiled behavior for a child of nobility. "He said if time ran out then I was to come to Haven and look for Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. That's why we went to Denerim; because it's close. Seeker Pentaghast is going to help me find Uncle."

"He said that?"

"No," Élise admitted, "but that must have been what he meant, don't you think?"

Cassandra was silent.

"Why did your uncle leave you in Denerim?" Cassandra asked.

"Because it's closer to Haven."

"No," Cassandra said, beginning to become impatient as well, "why did he need to leave you with someone? Where was he going?"

"The Conclave," the girl explained. "Uncle was helping the other mages, so he went. He said he wants the fighting to stop."

"The other mages?" Cassandra said. "You mean your uncle is an apostate?"

"He doesn't like that word," Élise whispered to Cassandra, as if her uncle were listening and would become angered to hear her reveal this. "He said he was a Circle mage once. I don't know what that means, though."

Cassandra nearly chuckled. The girl was too young to know what the Circle was. The "war" had been going on for a year; a year without any Circles to keep the mages in check.

Perhaps her uncle had been a legal apostate? Maybe some noble's personal enchanter or adviser. Or maybe he was simply a former Circle mage; the girl was fairly young, so it was possible that her uncle had left the Circle during the Mage Rebellion and had taken her in during that time. Whether he was loyal to the Circle or not, Cassandra didn't know. Was. This was the key word. Was. This would be the hard part to explain. Élise had been abandoned by one parent, and had lost the other. Now she was orphaned by the death of her uncle.

But why Cassandra? Why would anyone tell their child to go see Cassandra? She was terrible with children, for one thing. Anyone who knew her would know that, so perhaps it was some random man who figured the Right Hand of the Divine and the Hero of Orlais would be some angelic and gentle woman who would kindly help his niece.

Then a thought came to her. A potential explanation as to why Élise had been directed here. That dark brown hair, those blue-green eyes. Her fair skin and thin lips that curved into a charismatic smile. It all looked so familiar now.

"What's your name?" Cassandra asked, her voice demanding.

The girl nearly jumped at the sudden change in Cassandra's demeanor.

"I told you," the girl said, timidly this time. "I'm Élise."

"Your family name!" Cassandra specified. Her noise was catching the attention of those around her.

One of the soldiers urged the others to ignore the situation and continue their training, which they reluctantly did. He walked with ease in his heavy, ornamental armor which marked his position as commander of the Inquisition's troops, and he stopped when he reached Cassandra and Élise.

"What's going—?"

"—What is your name?" Cassandra asked, cutting off Cullen's inquiry.

"D'Marcall," Élise said in a tight voice. "My name is Élise D'Marcall."

"Galyan," Cassandra breathed after a moment of tense silence.

"Galyan?" Élise said in response, clearly confused. After a few seconds, a look of realization formed on her face. "Galyan... Regalyan D'Marcall; that is my uncle. Uncle told me to come here."

"He did, didn't he?" Cassandra said calmly. She knew he had been there. She assumed he had died. No, she had known it; as much as she told herself there was a slight chance that he had lived she knew that she was just clinging onto false hope.

"You're her, aren't you?" Élise said. "You're Cassandra."

"Yes, I am," Cassandra admitted.

"Just like Uncle said," Élise harrumphed. "Pretty and thorny, beautiful and dangerous. Just like a rose."

Then Cassandra did something she hadn't in quite some time. Something that shocked the girl and surprised even Cullen. She laughed, and Élise couldn't help but smile. Cassandra laughed, and she let the tears she had been holding back ever since Regalyan died run down her cheeks after hearing this precious yet painful comment. Painful because she would never see him again.

The Right Hand of the Divine, the Hero of Orlais, who defeated the evil blood mage and corrupt priestess that had attempted to kill Divine Beatrix III. The woman who had once despised and distrusted mages after her older brother had been murdered by blood mages for a ritual. She harbored all that hatred only to end up saving the life of Avexis, a young elven mage, and to fall in love with a pompous yet endearing mage named Regalyan D'Marcall, the man who had helped her on her journey and eventually won her heart.

Avexis had probably gone to the Conclave, so she was likely dead. Regalyan was definitely dead. Her parents, who she barely remembered, were dead, her brother, Anthony, was dead, her beloved mentor, Byron, was dead, Divine Beatrix III, who she'd risked her life to protect, was dead, Divine Justinia V was dead. Everyone was dead.

Cassandra, the mighty Hero of Orlais, had defeated an evil cult of blood mages, killed a dragon by herself, survived when she was judged a traitor and condemned to be executed, helped get the Inquisition as far as it was despite the inevitable consequences. She had done all of this with a fearless demeanor, not showing any weakness or signs of giving up, and yet this little girl was enough. Élise was one child, but a child who had brought back every memory, both painful and good, simply by revealing her name.

When Élise had uttered that familiar name, those three syllables, it was enough to release everything. Every fear and doubt Cassandra had hidden, every unshed tear and piercing scream she had withheld to hide her weakness. Every sorrow and worry and heartbreak she had experienced. It all burst out in that one, seemingly cheerful laugh and the tears that ran down her cheeks. More than anything it was her love for Regalyan, the only person she had ever felt that way towards.

Cassandra eventually calmed down and stopped laughing, a few tears still managing to escape her eyes. Élise stared up at Cassandra, smiling and looking as though she expected the Seeker to just take her by the hand and lead her to her uncle. It pained Cassandra that she couldn't, not only for her own desire to see Regalyan, but for the child's.

Cassandra sighed, a faint smile still on her face, and Élise tilted her head in curiosity. Then she looked up at the sky, staring at the Breach and the hypnotic, green splashes of color from the Fade that leaked out.

Élise then looked at Cassandra, and plainly said, "He's not coming back, is he?"

Cassandra shook her head, confirming Élise's suspicions. It irked her that the child had nearly no response to the news other than a slight frown. The girl obviously cared, but she had been taught not to show it. Just another reason Cassandra had always hated the Game.

"It's okay to cry," Cassandra said.

"That's what Uncle said when Father died," Élise said, no indication of sorrow in her voice, "but that's the first thing they teach you. Not to cry. You can't unlearn that."

"I beg to differ," Cassandra said with a small smile. It gladdened her that Regalyan had tried to help his niece regain what humanity had been taken from her. Maybe, just maybe, Cassandra could help finish the job.

"Is that so?" said Élise.

"Why don't you come with me to the tavern?" Cassandra said. "You must be hungry. We'll get you something to eat, and I can tell you about how I became the 'Hero of Orlais'."

"I already know how," Élise said. "Everyone does."

Cassandra shook her head. "They know what they have been told," Cassandra said, "but the truth is much different. I think you'd like to hear it. You're uncle played a large part."

"I am aware," Élise reiterated.

"Has he ever told you?" Cassandra asked.

"Only about you," the young girl said.

"Then I'll tell you what really happened," Cassandra said, a distant look on her face as she smiled at Élise's comment. "I'll tell you about Regalyan D'Marcall and the Hero of Orlais."

"All right," Élise said, a faint smile on her face.

As the two began to walk towards the tavern, Élise stopped when she saw a rose bush, and then she raised a question. "Why are there so many heroes and champions anyway? The Hero of Orlais, the Hero of Ferelden, the Champion of Kirkwall."

She approached the bush and grabbed a rose, undaunted when she was pricked by a thorn and her finger began to bleed. Cassandra looked at the blood on the child's finger. So much blood. So much needless bloodshed and death.

This thought in mind, Cassandra pointed to the Breach in the sky. Élise stared intently at it as though she might be able to see what was on the other side if she did so. "Because as long as there are bad people willing to do bad things like that... we will always need a hero."


End file.
